Veils
by ryddance
Summary: Written in the POV of a teacher at Alex's school, this fic describes his thoughts about a mysterious Alex Rider.


**Disclaimer: I have no rights to Alex Rider. Anthony Horowitz is responsible for him.**

**So this is just a short fic that just popped into my head, making me say "Oh. That could be interesting."**

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Veils

The bell rings. The teacher Mr Barry shuffles papers around his already-neat desk with unsteady fingers, trying to be busy. As the students lumber in, he takes out his attendance book. He clears his throat and licks his lower lip before calling out each name on the roster.

Here. Here. Pause. Here. Here. The list goes on. There is one absentee. Everyone else is here. Not bad. Clasky had a dentist's appointment. No surprise there—he'd been notified earlier in the week. What was surprising was the quietly uttered 'here' from the dusty corner of the room when he got to the R's. There was only one R in this classroom. Alex Rider.

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Now there is a veiled presence. When he is present, that is. He never speaks voluntarily. He keeps to himself. The only person Barry sees him interact much with lately is the smallest boy in the grade, Tom Harris, whose loud goofy personality seems completely opposite from Rider's

Barry isn't the only teacher who watches Rider. At lunch, they all observe how he mingles—he doesn't. For the most part, he sits alone, almost always with his friend. When there are no tables available, and the weather outside is frightful **(1),** he sits down stiffly, holding himself clear of everyone else—leaning away from the possibility of contact, leaning more towards Harris, who blocks his other side. It is almost like he has an aversion to his classmates.

His classmates steer clear of him, though he is not completely ignored. They spread rumors. It's only natural. They are curious, it's human nature. They want to fill in the blanks, to know and find an excuse that would explain what is happening before their very eyes. They don't like not knowing. They want to know what is happening to their classmate, who is turning more inwards on himself. He is so different from what he was.

The teachers aren't deaf. No. They hear the rumors. Rumors of drugs (dealing or using was being debated) or of Rider being in a gang. Some of the teachers even believe them or think they hold just a shred of truth. A few don't.

Mr Barry isn't sure.

On one hand, he sees the bruises. The busted lip. The swelling on various parts of his face after some illnesses. Rider always wears long sleeves, but sometimes the sleeves ride up. There re nicks and numerous faded scars and one or two larger scars. Battle scars on the streets? There are several layers of scarring that wrap around his wrists. They look like they are from struggling with handcuffs or binds. A few have seen them and many students suggest he has been arrested but escaped.

Yes. Barry supposes he could fit the part.

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_He has been broody. He radiates an unnamable air that warns others to be wary and tread lightly. You can't pinpoint it, but it makes you uncomfortable. You try to hide it, but he notices, and you can tell. But even worse, he takes note that you can tell. You see it in his eyes. The slight sharpening of his eyes as he takes in every detail, and you can't help but feel like you are being held under a microscope. His face is watchful, his expression is not openly hostile, you just can't help but feel the way you do. You can't let it faze you. You swallow the slight lump in your throat and divert your attention on the lesson, on the rest of the class as a whole. But you feel the prickle of hairs on the back of your neck and a chill rises up your spine._

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However, Barry can't see the drug aspect. Definitely not using. He is too clear for that. The way he observes tells you that. He was smart. You would think with all his prolonged absences, his grades would completely tank. They don't. Once he catches up on the majority of his makeup work, he usually gives the correct answer when prompted. He tries, mostly successful, to not be noticed therefore not called on. Before catching up, Rider would stiffen in his chair and quietly, respectfully decline to answer. The class would snicker. And though his grades aren't quite failing, they were nowhere near the level they were on…before…whatever happened.

But, on the other hand, Barry also sees the reluctance in his demeanor. The stiffness in which he regards others. The discomfort when he was surrounded by classmates. The defensiveness and poster demand he be left along. Barry sees the weariness on his young face and his and the bags under his tired eyes, thinly veiled. Rider hates people sitting or standing behind him. He tenses at sudden loud noises. He reacts to touch. Sometimes he flinches. Others…

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_Once when there a few extra minutes in class, and the class was being rowdy, Rider was sitting slightly hunching in on himself when one of the boys stumbled into his back. His reaction was interesting. It was like he was a compressed coil under a thumb that was struggling to contain the pressure, and the grip had suddenly slipped, the coil rocketing before a palm could slap it down. He had sprung, like the coil, from his chair, spinning around in a low crouch, already in what anyone could recognize as a fighting stance. When he saw the alarmed look of the boy who had crashed into him, he mumbled a rushed apology, excused himself for the restroom, and quickly walked out. Everyone stared as he went out and burst into hushed whispers once he was on his way down the hall._

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His eyes. He had only seen those eyes on two people previously, one being Barry's father, who had served in the military. They both had soldier's eyes. Rider has eyes similar to theirs. Eyes that seem bottomless. Full of emotions. Pain, loss, fear, tragedy, suffering. Bitterness, wariness, suspicion, and anger, all rolled into a chaotic package. They are fascinating. Familiar.

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One day, after another long sick leave, Rider comes back. He's jumpy. He snatches in every detail around him. He shies away from windows. He jumps at some noise and then pauses to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He's not paying any attention and Barry can see open concern on Harris's face when he glances at him, which is often. Barry doesn't risk calling on him. Something is bothering him. Barry finds comfort in the blatantly obvious fact that Rider has at least one true friend. One friend who has stuck by him and clearly knows a little something about him.

At lunch, as the weather is sunny and warm, a rarity, Barry locates Rider under a shady maple tree. Barry nearly misses him, he blends with the shadows. His friend isn't with him, and he is holding a mostly-eaten sandwich in his hand. Barry registers the bruising on his right hand.

Barry asks permission to sit. Rider gestures to a raised tree root close to him. Barry grunts slightly as his knees creak into the low sitting position. Rider is silent, watching curiously. Guarded, but not nearly as defensive as Barry would have expected. Barry feels an odd mix of gratitude and warmth.

Rider regards him silently, with carefully interested eyes. Barry comments about the mild weather and Rider indulges him. They talk awhile. Rider says he likes the peace and tries to enjoy it when he can. Barry chuckles and agrees that the lunchroom is not the place to go for that, what with the majority of the students being in there. They make small talk. Barry learns a few things. Alex is a pleasant young man who has a wry sense of humor that sneaks up in a conversation. He is a boy who has had to grow up too fast. It is in his demeanor. He talks to the teacher as an equal, like it's natural and he doesn't have to gears into a 'student voice'.

As lunch is about to end, they get up and Barry gently lays a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the slight tensing. Alex turns to look at him. Nothing is said between them, but one look can share a litany of information. The look he receives from the teacher's sad, old eyes is one of compassion, respect, and understanding. Sadness, but not pity.

The veteran Daniel Barry now knows why his attention was drawn to this boy. Why he was so fascinated with him. He should have known when he first noticed Alex's eyes deepen. He should have accepted that he saw the eyes he glanced at every morning in the mirror on Alex. Though Barry's liquid blue eyes were so different from Alex's chocolate brown ones, they both carried the same veil which didn't quite manage to mask the deep shades of pain from each other. Barry had tried to reason with himself and say it was not likely. Now he knows. Deep in his aching bones, he just knows.

He knows nothing of the circumstances, but he realizes that whatever happened firmly holds down it's side of the scales for this sorrow to happen. The weight of the world. The weight of lives. Barry had gained acceptance that he had learned from his experiences, and he carries his burden willingly and with pride. He vows that he would be there for Alex, if only as someone who does not treat him as a pariah.

Two soldiers stood in the cooling air, a fresh-smelling breeze bringing the promise of rain.

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**(1): Yeeess. I really did. I really did just take a line from the Christmas carol 'Let it Snow'. Sorry if it ruins the moment, but that just happened, and once I put it in there, it stuck.**

**So Mr. Barry was a soldier. His eyes held the shadows of his experiences, and after his career in the military ended, he sought out the career as a teacher and found peace there doing what he loves. Most know of his past in the military. Alex knows and he can see through the veil that Mr Barry puts up (just like Alex himself) to lessen the blow for others and to not stand out as much. I imagine Mr Barry as a wizened old soul who is well liked and respected by everyone. I think he would be able to see through the mask that Alex might put up in front of his classmates. I also imagine that Alex would hold a great deal of respect for a weathered vet. These are just a couple of my thought processes while writing this at three in the morning.**

**I know a couple people who served. They always look at the good things and want to make people laugh. After they came home, they just took on a whole new appreciation for life.**

**Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think.**

**~ryddance**


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